


This Dress and That Jacket

by CesarioOneiroi (VividDayDreamer)



Category: Original Work
Genre: Agony, Angst, Couples Dance, Distance, Don't copy to another site, F/F, Love's torture, Pain, Sorrow, failed romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-13
Updated: 2019-12-13
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:01:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 276
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21782599
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VividDayDreamer/pseuds/CesarioOneiroi
Comments: 1
Kudos: 1





	This Dress and That Jacket

  


Arms wrapped around her shoulders, bodies close to touching, but souls were miles and miles apart. 

We sway to a romantic song, one meant to captivate hearts, not break them.

Hands hold me close, warm to the touch, yet there's a sharp chill felt only from within.

Pooling at eyes shut tight, trickles began to fall, because she's here, yet she's not.

  


Contradictions abound.

  


  


_Clutch her closer_

  


That's the reaction, so arms tighten their hold around her neck to pull her forward; erase all signs of physical space. 

Use her strength, the rigidness of her body to anchor my own.

Inhale that scent, that perfect blend of varied fragrances that I know only to be of _her_. Use it to bring comfort to the ache in my chest.

Let the tears fall for joy, because it is real, because despite it all, she is here.

  


The melody plays on.

Beautiful torture.

Tepid curse.

  


  


"I wore this dress just for tonight. For you."

  


The flowing material dances along, a heavenly glide with each passing movement.

Delicate fabric, meticulously selected, perfected upon this body.

No reaction is garnered.

Her hold didn't tighten. Her breath didn't change. Her eyes failed to meet anywhere but somewhere beyond in the distance. No words. No kiss.

The encounter, tainted.

One heart held firm. One heart went soft—too soft it bled. But both felt the pain. Both had been broken.

The lackluster embrace becomes just that.

Head now rests on her shoulder, and tears fall onto her pristine, black suit jacket. The one I chose for her. Just for tonight.

This was the dance. Our dance. Our first dance. And our last.

  



End file.
